


Normal Views

by GentleHum



Category: Mystery Science Theater 3000
Genre: Alternate Condom Usage, Alternate Universe, Back to School, Bacon, Bad Fashion Sense, Butt-Rock, Cub Scouts, Diet, Embarrassed Parenting, Gay Space Dads, Gen, Happy Meals, Health Issues, Joike, M/M, Misunderstood Idioms, Overcompensating for Abandoning Your Robots in Space (Twice), Overconsumption of Processed Meat Products, Overprotective Space Dad, Painful Shoe Repair, Pit Stains, Popsicles, Post-Canon, Pride, Robot Cuddling, Shopping, Shuffleboard, Tick Spit, Winter Hats, bad singing, bee stings, family movie night
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2018-07-14 03:46:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 8,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7151756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GentleHum/pseuds/GentleHum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gay Space Dads Mike Nelson and Joel Robinson navigate post-Satellite of Love life as a suburban couple raising their robot family in Minneapolis. Stand-alone vignettes inspired by other people's stories, Tumblr prompts, Tweets, fortune cookies, random thoughts while driving, and anything and everything else. G-rated, a few swear words and kisses here and there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Singing Down the Drain

**Author's Note:**

> Remember: these are the characters, not the real people!  
> Many thanks to Tumblr user FontOnAScreen, whose Gay Space Dads universe is so very much fun to play in!  
> MST3K is a trademark of Satellite of Love, LLC. No infringement intended, I'm sure as heck not making any money, and if I did, I'd probably just buy more MST3K and RiffTrax stuff, anyway.

When Joel, putting away boxes in the basement, heard the unearthly screeching, his immediate thought was that Crow and Tom decided to modify their body parts again. But when he reached the living room, the two were sitting quietly (to his surprise) on the floor, reading some of Crow’s old comic books. The screeching was louder here than in the basement, undulating wails piercing the quiet of their new home.

“Hey guys? Do you hear that?”

“Hear what, Joel?” Crow said, beak buried in _Batman and Robin Adventures: SubZero._

“That sound…it sounds like a cat’s stuck in the chimney, only we don’t have a chimney-”

“We don’t have a chimney?” Tom asked. “We have a fireplace.”

“That’s for decoration only. It doesn’t work.”

“How’s Santy Claus going to get in to give us our Christmas presents without a chimney?” Crow wailed. His sobbing added a non-harmonic counterpoint to the muffled shrieks that Joel now identified as coming from upstairs.

“Crow, remember that weird Mexican Santa movie? He has a key to get into rich Mexican mansions, I’m sure he has a key to get into lower middle class suburban colonials in need of some maintenance, too,” Tom said sensibly.

“Oh.” Crow shut up instantly and went back to reading.

“Tom, do you know what’s makin’ that noise?” Joel asked tentatively.

“Of course.”

“Mind telling me?”

“Mike’s singing in the shower.” Tom was nonchalant.

“That’s _singing_?”

“He thinks it is. Crow, Cambot and I have a different opinion.”

“Does he do that…singing…a lot?”

“Pretty much every shower. He likes to take long showers, too. Usually he gets through the first side of _Moving Pictures_ before he comes out,” Tom explained. A sound not unlike a porkerina with a nasal blockage drifted down the stairs. “And now he’s doing the guitar solo in ‘YYZ’.”

“But I’ve heard Mike sing before, at Christmas. He has a pretty good voice, better'n mine. You and he sounded great together singing 'A Patrick Swayze Christmas’. What happened?”

“He’s doing Butt Rock. And in Butt Rock, it’s all about the falsetto.” Tom nodded his torso knowledgeably.

“And the spandex pants,” threw in Crow.

Joel had started upstairs to ask Mike to stop, and paused on the second step. _Mike in spandex pants?_ filtered slowly through his brain. Then he realized if he barged in on Mike in the shower, he might see him naked. Naked and singing his heart out like an off-brand Geddy Lee. He wasn’t as disturbed by that image as he should rightly have been.

Joel turned back around. “I’ll be in the basement.” He had some earplugs down there by the power tools.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested in hearing what Mike "singing" in the shower sounds like, just pickup the RiffTrax of MegaForce and listen to the end credits.


	2. Magnificent Creatures

“MikeMikeMikeMikeMikeMikeMikeMikeMikeMikeMike!” Crow ran into the living room and jumped onto the couch, knocking off his Cub Scout hat in the process. “We’re going camping!”

“Who’s we, buddy?”

“My Cub Scout troop!”

“Last weekend of May, Rum River camp, up in Anoka,” Joel provided as he hung up his and Crow’s jackets. “I said we’d both chaperone, since Tom and Cambot can come along as siblings.”

“No.” Mike’s answer was immediate.

“No?”

“No. I’m not going camping.”

“Why?” Joel asked, bewildered.

“I know why,” Crow said smugly. “Mike’s scared of creepy-crawlies!”

“So are you!” Mike retorted.

“Mike, it’s Anoka, not the North Woods of Wisconsin, and it’s only for two nights,” Joel patiently explained. “Why don’t you want to go?”

“Three words: mosquitoes, chiggers, and ticks.” Mike shuddered. “I _hate_ ticks.”

“There aren’t any ticks in Anoka! It’s the suburbs.”

“Joel, there are ticks everywhere in Minnesota. There are ticks everywhere that’s outside. There are ticks in our backyard, for heaven’s sake! With their razor-sharp chelicerae and their needle-like hypostomes! They inject you with anti-coagulants when they feed on your blood. Tick spit, Joel, they inject you with TICK SPIT!”

Joel’s mouth hung slightly open. Crow looked horrified. “I don’t wanna get filled up with tick spit!” he wailed, turning and running upstairs to his room.

Mike folded his arms and leaned back on the cushions.

Joel swallowed. “Maybe we could take the boys to the Children’s Museum that weekend, instead.”


	3. Happy Meal?

“C'mon, please? Pleeeeeeeze?”

“No,” Mike answered shortly. “We’re not stopping at McDonald’s.”

“But I only need two more toys to have the whole Inspector Gadget set!”

“Joel, I am not getting you a kid’s meal. You’re 43 years old.”

“But I need Dr. Claw’s Claw! Please?” Joel whined.

Crow and Tom chimed in from the back seat. “We want MickeyDs! We want MickeyDs!”

Mike looked up at the rear view mirror. “You know we just went to Taco John’s on Thursday. Only one fast food meal a week, remember?”

“Today’s Sunday, that means it’s a new week!” Crow’s logic was convincing.

“It doesn’t work like that,” Mike answered. “Besides, you turned down dessert at Grandma’s because you said you were full.”

“It was rhubarb pie, honey. You didn’t have any either,” Joel pointed out.

Mike looked uncomfortable. “She never puts enough sugar in the custard.”

“So we’re going to McDonald’s then?” Tom asked.

Mike lifted his hands and dropped them again with a thud on the steering wheel. “OK, fine, we’ll go.” Three voices chorused a ‘Yay!’. “But only the drive-thru. I’m not going into that disgusting ball pit after you two again.”

“Honey, we have to go inside so I can get the claw and Helicopter Hat Gadget. If you go through the drive-thru you can’t make sure you’re getting the right toy! And we’ll have to stop at another McDonald’s if the first one is out.”

Mike sighed.


	4. Pit Stop

“Tom, I told you it's fine. Now hold still so I can get this on.” Joel was doing his best to get the clip-on tie fastened to Tom's white shirt.

“But Mrs. Lilly said we had to wear a white shirt and black pants! And I can't wear pants!” Tom complained.

“She knows you can't wear pants. Your hover skirt is black and white, so you'll look fine. Anyway, the dress code is about everyone in the chorus being dressed sorta alike so people listen to your singing instead of being distracted by your clothing. And-”

Mike popped through Tom's bedroom door. “Is _this_ shirt OK?” He was wearing the most bland shirt possible, a beige linen-ish button down.

Joel examined Mike with a critical eye, then nodded. “Better'n than the orange one you had on before.”

“That's my favorite shirt!”

“And I'm tired of Alex's mother always asking me if you have any other shirts than that one.”

“Says Mr. Navy Blue Polo Shirt and Black Sport Coat Combo.”

Joel looked at Mike over his glasses. “Are Crow and Cambot ready?” Just then Cambot zoomed past Mike's head into the small room with Crow right behind.

“We are! Would you guys hurry up already? We've been waiting for-ev-er!” Cambot made a rude noise in agreement with Crow's whine.

“Tom's ready, you're ready, we're all ready. Let's go.” Joel said, then paused. “Mike, did you lock up the shed?”

“Shi-shoot, no. Meet you at the car.” He exited the bedroom, with Joel and the 'bots following.

 

Joel buckled in Tom as Mike came around the side of the garage. His beige shirt was now marred with two large dark spots under each arm, and a growing stain at the neckline, two buttons down.

“Mike!” Joel exclaimed. “How the hell did you pit out your shirt in three minutes? You didn't do anything!” His eyes narrowed. “Did you?”

Mike looked down and grimaced. “I'm...a sweaty guy?”

Joel shook his head. “I can't take you anywhere. Go change into your orange shirt. At least that one doesn't show the stains immediately.” 

“That's why it's my favorite,” Mike pointed out as he headed back inside.

“And button it all the way up this time!” Joel hollered.


	5. Robot Cold Call

There was a small knock on the bedroom door. Joel guessed what it was about and turned his lamp on. “Come on in, guys.”

Crow and Tom flung the door open and ran over to the bed. Surprisingly, Cambot came in behind them, his scarf still wrapped and tied tightly around him.

“Close the door, Crow, you're letting the heat out,” Mike chided the little gold 'bot as he scrambled onto the bed, clutching Mr. Bear in one arm. Cambot floated over and nudged the door closed. “Never mind. Thanks, Cambot.”

“Ooh, it's toasty in here! Or at least above absolute zero, which is what OUR bedrooms are at,” said Tom, hovering alongside Joel's head. Cambot nodded, lens bobbing up and down.

“I'm sorry, guys, but we don't have any more space heaters and I don't want the pipes to freeze on top of the furnace being broken. The repair guy'll be here tomorrow. You can tough it out tonight,” Joel said. “You've got your footie pajamas, and besides, you're robots. You've been outside in space just fine and that's way colder than this.”

“Not by much,” Tom muttered.

“I heard that, Thomas Bartholomew Servo.” Joel scolded.

Crow snuggled into Mike's side. “We're freezing! Dad, can we sleep with you?” Mike rolled his eyes at Crow playing the 'Dad card', but he had to admit it usually worked.

“Come on, honey, we might as well. The more of us in here the more body heat we generate and the warmer we all stay. It's gonna be pretty cold in here by tomorrow morning.”

Joel gave in. “Fine, but you guys hafta stay still – no kicking. Promise?”

“We promise!” the two bots chorused, while Cambot chirped vigorously. 

“OK, hop in.” Joel lifted the comforters on his side for Tom to maneuver under, while Mike tucked in Crow and Mr. Bear (“Don't cover his trunk! He can't breathe right if you cover his trunk!”) next to him and removed Crow's net. “Last time we let you sleep with us you nearly took my eye out with this, sport.” Cambot snuggled down at the foot of the bed between the two men's legs. 

Joel looked down. “You make a pretty good foot warmer there, buddy.” Cambot beeped sleepily and shut down. “Good night, everybody,” he said as he shut off the light.

“I don't even rate a good night kiss?” grumbled Mike. Joel kissed his cheek as Crow snickered. Tom quipped “Goodnight, Joel-boy. Goodnight, Mikey-ellen.”

“Shush, you spinach chins, and go to sleep.”

As the space heater hummed and clicked, and the small movements of Mike and the 'bots slowed as they fell asleep one by one, Joel had to admit it was pretty nice to cuddle together as a family once in a while. He held Tom a little closer to his chest with one arm and felt for Mike's hand with the other. A small squeeze when he found it made him smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Bear is Crow's stuffed elephant and belongs entirely to Tumblr user fontonascreen. I stole it because it's utterly charming.


	6. May Bees

“Jo-ellllll!”

The man whose name was being bellowed looked up from his weeding to see Tom Servo flying around the corner of the garage, with Crow at his heels.

“Yeah, Tom?”

“Mike said we had to ask you if we could have a popsicle. I told him he was passing off his parental duties to you again.” Joel suspected it was a tactic to get the two 'bots out of the backyard for a few minutes so he could move the trampoline to mow, but he couldn't blame the man.

Joel looked at his watch. It was far enough after lunch that he didn't see the harm. “On one condition.”

“What's that?” Crow looked like he was about to have his frozen pop-on-a-stick specific branded treat taken away from him.

“You gotta bring me one, too.”

“Okay!” Tom sped off. Crow started to follow.

“And not a grape one, either! You guys always leave the grape ones for Mike and I.”

“What if there're only grape ones left?” Crow asked.

“I bought another box yesterday. Open that if you have to.”

Crow nodded and walked into the garage. Joel wondered for a second if he should get up and get the pair their treats himself, but he decided against it. He'd been babying them a little too much recently and the 'bots would always take advantage of a human slave when one was available. No, let them get the popsicles themselves. He'd just slip into the house in a few minutes to make sure they closed the freezer door.

Soon Tom and Crow returned to the front yard. “Here, Joel.” Crow held out a still-wrapped pop. He had a cherry one in his other claw, and Tom was clutching an orange between both of his white hands. Joel wasn't sure how that worked, but shrugged. Maybe he should rethink getting Servo working arms.

Joel opened his and was pleasantly surprised to see it was orange. “Thanks, guys. Do you want to help me here for a little while?” He shoved most of the frozen pop in his mouth and slowly pulled it out. 

“What are you doing?” Tom asked. Crow noticed a grasshopper and started chasing it around the front yard.

“Weeding. I'm gonna plant some flowers later today or tomorrow. What colors should we get?”

Tom did the closest approximation of a shoulder shrug his little barrel body could provide. “I'm color-blind, remember? They all look pretty much blue, brown, and yellow to me.”

“Oh gee! I'm sorry, Tommy, I forgot.”

Tom shrugged again. “I've accepted it. I've also accepted you had no idea what you were doing when you were building me, even though you had three other, inferior models to practice on first.”

“Tom, that's not-”

A blood-curdling shriek came from near the sidewalk. Joel turned his torso and was nearly bowled over by a sobbing Crow. “Owieowieowieowie! It h-h-urts!”

“Calm down, Crow, and tell me what happened!” Joel pulled the robot down next to him and held his shoulders.

“I st-stepped on a bee! And it stung me! And it hurts!”

“Let me see.” Joel shifted Crow around until he was able to get a good look at his feet. Sure enough, there on the bottom of the right one was a small raised welt. _How in the world…?_

Mike was suddenly at Joel's side. “What happened? I heard screaming.”

“Crow stepped on a bee.”

Mike winced. “Oooh, that's gotta sting.” Joel rolled his eyes at the inappropriate pun, but Mike didn't notice as he leaned down. “Let's get you inside.” He picked Crow up, grunting only slightly. “I swear you're gaining weight every time I carry you.”

“Crow, I told you to watch out, going barefoot like that all the time-”

Mike cut Joel off. “No lectures until later. I'm gonna get this cleaned up, and make sure he doesn't have an allergic reaction. My brother always swelled up something awful when he got stung.”

“He's made of molybdenum. A stinger can't penetrate that!”

Mike stared levelly at Joel through Crow's net. “Robots can't get chicken pox either, now can they?”

“It hurts! Make it stop hurting!” Crow was sniffling.

“We'll get some ice on it and you'll feel better in no time,” Mike soothed. Crow quieted a bit.

“You dropped your popsicle, too,” Tom pointed out. That set off a new wail.

“You can have another one, Crow.” Mike walked away carrying the now-placated Crow.

“Hey! That's not fair! He gets almost two whole popsicles and I only get one!” Tom protested.

Joel turned his bored look onto Tom. “Well, we can always get you stung by a wasp or a yellow jacket to even things out.”

Tom huffed. “Discrimination, that's what it is. Pure and simple discrimination. Just because I don't have any clumsy feet to get in the way of the poor bee minding it's own business.”

“If you want another popsicle so bad, fine. You can have one – but it has to be grape.”

Tom considered for a moment. “Forget it. No one likes grape.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, credit to fontonascreen for giving the 'bots chicken pox. Well, not literally - you know what I mean!


	7. Swing Time

Joel was in the living room working on the computer when Mike and the 'bots came home.

“Hi Joel! Can we go outside and play?” Tom asked cheerily as Mike helped Crow off with his backpack.

Joel threw Mike a quick smirk. “Well, I don't know...you two have any homework to do?”

Tom's dome swiveled from side to side. “I'm a sentient robot capable of calculating pi to ten thousand digits in a millisecond. I don't need to practice five minus two!”

“What about your spelling homework?” Mike asked.

“B-I-T-E M-E-” Crow spelled.

“That's enough outta you, mister!” Joel warned.

“What?” Crow asked innocently. “Check my worksheet! 'Bite' is on there, so's 'mean'! You asked.”

“So can we play or not?” Tom floated over and put himself between Joel and the monitor.

“I guess so,” Joel drawled as he got up from the desk, throwing another look at Mike.

As soon as Joel opened the back door Tom and Crow rushed through – then stopped dead and stared at the brand new play set and trampoline that filled a good portion of the newly green backyard. Mike and Joel watched the 'bots with anticipation as they took in the sight.

Tom turned back to the pair and spoke. “Joel? Mike? Someone left their stuff in our backyard by mistake.”

Joel laughed. “That's for you and Crow, Tom! Happy First Spring in Minnesota!”

“Really? This is really for us?” Tom sounded disbelieving. Crow just goggled, mouth hanging open.

“Yup,” Mike grinned. “Are you going to try it out or should we take it back to the store?”

“Whoopee!” Crow finally broke out of his trance and ran over to the play set. He started scrambling up the small climbing wall as Tom zoomed over to the trampoline and started bouncing by shutting his hoverskirt on and off. 

“Whee!” Crow yelped as he slid down the sliding board.

“Stop saying ‘whee'. Nobody says ‘whee’, Crow.” Tom scolded, his voice fading in and out as he bounced.

The two men beamed like the proud parents they were as they watched the ‘bots play. Mike leaned against the shorter man. “Are you sure we can afford this?” he murmured into Joel's ear, as he snuck an arm around his waist. Joel leaned into the touch.

“I told you we could thanks to your tax refund,” he answered. “The government thinks Tom and Crow are regular children since they're enrolled in school. That means you get the dependent tax deduction, the child tax credit, and a few more credits Gypsy's accountants found for us. There's still about two-thirds of it left for the vacation fund.”

“And next question: are you sure this is a good idea?” Mike couldn't resist and breathed a soft puff into Joel's ear. He was rewarded by a shudder and the slightest sigh.

“You're going to argue with something that will keep them busy and out of our hair for minutes at a time?” Joel shifted his weight, brushing his hip against the front of Mike's khakis. “Besides, if spring break was anythin' to go by, I’ll go insane by July without somethin’ to help me entertain them all day long.”

“I see your point,” Mike agreed. Before he could lean in to kiss his partner, Tom called. “Mike? Joel? I need a push!” He was on one of the swings, the half-bucket seat the two had agreed would be better than a regular sling seat for the little red ‘bot, as Crow, who had been bouncing on the trampoline after Tom abandoned it, scrambled to the other and joined in the pleading. “Pleeeeease can I have a push too?”

“You were saying?” Mike chuckled ruefully, pulling away.

“Let's get 'em as tired out as possible so they go to sleep early, shall we?” Joel suggested as they headed over to the two very happy robots.

“You can try, but I have a feeling they’ll be so excited they won’t get to sleep easily,” Mike responded. 

“Hopefully so will you,” Joel leered. Mike laughed, shook his head and gave Tom a gentle push, as Joel did the same for Crow.


	8. Meat Baffle

Joel shut off the mower as Mike pulled into the driveway after work. The ‘bots were playing in the backyard, with Cambot charged to come and get him at the first hint of trouble. So far he’d only been interrupted twice – a good afternoon.

“You got another package today,” Joel greeted Mike as he exited the car.

“From whom?” Mike put his arm briefly around Joel’s shoulders, then dropped it. They weren’t big on public displays in the front yard where all the neighbors could see. Not that Joel thought anyone but Mrs. Soderstrom would raise a stink, but better to avoid any problems until they were firmly established as good neighbors. Given Minnesota manners, Joel figured that would happen sometime around 2022.

“Dunno. I didn’t recognize the address,” Joel answered as he opened the front door to let them inside. A blast of cool air greeted them and the bass thumps of Billie Joe’s band practicing disappeared when he closed the door. “It’s on the kitchen table.”

“Where’s Tom and Crow?”

“Playing in the backyard while I mow. Cambot’s babysitting.”

Mike picked up the medium-sized box. “Oh, I recognize this address. It’s the new Gourmet Bacon of the Month Club I signed up for.” He grabbed for the letter opener and started sawing at the packing tape.

“Let me.” Joel opened his pocket knife and neatly slit the tape for Mike. “You’d be here for an hour with that thing, it’s so dull.”

“Why’s it so dull, if it’s supposed to be good for opening things?”

“Because you use it.”

Mike shot a Robochet at Joel, who smirked in response. Mike shook his head and dug around in the packaging. Shortly he fished out two vacuum wrapped packages.

“Mmmm! Cracked pepper garlic bacon!” Mike’s face looked like Christmas morning. 

“That sounds pretty good,” Joel admired.

“And cinnamon sugar bacon.”

“That doesn’t.”

“Since when have you turned down any bacon?”

“There’s always a first time.” Joel looked at the package. “Honey? You get an awful lot of these meat deliveries, don’t you?”

“I guess.”

“No, Gene is here like twice a week.”

“Who’s Gene?”

“The UPS guy. Melinda’s the FedEx guy. Seriously, how many of these clubs do you belong to?” Joel was curious.

“Let’s see...” Mike started ticking off fingers. “There’s this new Bacon of the Month Club, Sausage of the Month Club, Ham of the Month Club, a _different_ Bacon of the Month Club, Salami of the Month Club, Jerky of the Month Club, _Bacon_ Jerky of the Month Club, Smoked Meat of the Month Club, Pork Chop of the Month Club, and...and...oh! Meat of the Month Club.” Mike looked proud of himself for remembering them all.

Joel’s mouth was open, but he remembered himself and put a bored look on his face. “So ten. Ten fill-in-random-animal-flesh-product-here of the Month Clubs you belong to.”

“And a Cheese of the Month club. But that’s a gift from my parents. They think I’m going to suffer a cheese deficit living here in Minneapolis instead of back in Wisconsin like any good red-blooded, cheese-loving Midwestern man should.” Mike had picked up one of the bacon packages and was examining the ingredients. Or he was trying to, holding it at arm’s length and squinting at the printing.

Joel nodded. A wicked thought crossed his mind. “Have I mentioned I’m thinking seriously about going vegetarian?”

The bacon thudded to the floor as Mike looked at him in horror. “You...you _wouldn’t_!”

“All this pork can’t be good for your health. You should think about joining me. I got a wonderful recipe for lentil loaf from Mrs. Jabar Khat at the last PTSO meeting.”

Mike grabbed Joel by the shoulders. “You heretic! Blasphemer! You can’t do this to me!”

Joel couldn’t keep a straight face any longer, and snorted. The look of relief on Mike’s face would be pitiful if it wasn’t so adorable, in Joel’s opinion.

Mike leaned his forehead against Joel’s and slipped his arms all the way around him. “Don’t scare me like that. I love you, honey, but don’t ever make me choose between you and meat.”

Joel smirked again as he too put his arms around his partner. “I’m not giving up your meat any time soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Robochet is allegedly a film technique featuring an extreme close-up of a character with an absolutely expressionless face. See The Film Crew riff of _Killers in Space_ for Mike Nelson's perfect Robochet.
> 
> Every single one of the (Fill in the Blank) of the Month Clubs mentioned is a real thing at the time of writing.


	9. Best Foot Forward

“Honey, do we have any superglue?”

Joel looked up from the sink. “I’ve got a coupla different kinds down in the basement. What do you need it for?”

“My sandals broke.” Mike leaned against the bathroom doorway. “Or one of them did, at least.”

“Your sandals? You don’t have sandals? Or do you mean your flip-flops?”

“Grown manly men don’t wear flip-flops,” Mike huffed with feigned dignity.

“If they’re plastic and only have one strap and a whozit between your toes, they’re flip-flops, not sandals.” Joel tilted his head to the side. “How’d you manage to break a flip-flop?”

“I took off my _sandal_ to throw it at a squirrel that was attacking Servo and the strap pulled out from the...thing that holds it to the bottom...thing.”

“The ‘bottom thing’ is the sole – wait, Tom was attacked by a squirrel?”

“You know Tom. Really it just ran toward him along the top of the fence.”

“So Brave Sir Michael springs to the rescue by throwing his flip-flop at the squirrel.”

Mike narrowed his eyes. “Next time I’ll just let him scream it out, then.”

Joel grimaced. “Touché. Did you hit the squirrel?”

“Not even close. But it ran away, so Tom stopped crying and instead started critiquing my aim, my girl-like throwing ability, and my big, ugly feet.”

“Can’t blame a ‘bot for telling the truth.”

“I do not throw like a girl – hey!”

Joel smirked. “C’mon, let’s get you some glue.”

*************

“It’s your turn to pick for family movie night, Cambot,” Joel said. The little round ‘bot beeped excitedly. “What do you wanna watch?”

Cambot zoomed over to the shelves, extended their lens, and nudged at a tape. Joel came closer and frowned.

“I said family, buddy. Unless you’re volunteering to sit up with Crow every night for the next week, I think you better find somethin’ without killer garage doors.” Joel pushed _Scream_ back into place as Cambot fired off a series of disgruntled chirps and whistles. Finally they hovered over to a brightly colored DVD and beeped questioningly.

“Good choice. And if you think about it, it’s pretty gruesome in a sorta understated way.” Cambot nodded and hovered to their spot just behind the couch as Joel loaded the DVD into the player. “You guys ready with the popcorn yet?” he hollered into the kitchen.

“Coming right up!” Tom answered as he and Mike came into the room with a huge bowl, Crow following. A few kernels dropped onto the coffee table as he set it down. “Help me with the drinks?” Mike asked Joel. Crow grabbed for the remote, but Joel snagged it first and smirked. The two ‘bots started fighting for position on the couch.

“Sure.” As he followed Mike back into the kitchen he noticed the big man was limping slightly. “Did you hurt yourself?”

“No,” Mike answered as he picked up Crow and Tom’s sippy cups complete with silly straws. “Can you get the beer?”

Joel opened the fridge. “Leinie? Slumming, are we?”

Mike grunted. “Didn’t get a chance to get to the store this afternoon.” He turned and limped back into the living room. 

“You sure you’re all right? Why are you wearing only one flip-flop?”

“The other one is currently under repair, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” Joel said. “Move over, Crow.”

“I just got comfortable!” Crow whined. “Make Tom move!”

“Both of you move,” Mike commanded. He couldn’t help the slight grunt escaping as he sat down at one end of the couch. Joel looked over as he sat down at the opposite end, Tom and Crow between them.

“So what are we watching tonight?” Tom asked.

“Cambot picked out _Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory_ ,” Joel answered. Crow groaned as Tom cheered.

“I wanna watch _Scream_ again,” Crow complained. Cambot made a fart sound. Joel turned and scowled at the round ‘bot. He blurped unapologetically.

“Are we gonna watch anything or are we gonna sit here all night?” Tom asked. “Who has the remote?”

Joel hit play and they all (except Cambot) settled back into the cushions as the FBI warning popped up onscreen.

“So you gonna tell me why you’re limping?” Joel badgered Mike.

“No good reason,” Mike answered, eyes glued to the TV as if he was fascinated by the previews.

“He glued his toes together,” Tom said nonchalantly. “Hey, Joel, give me a drink.”

Joel automatically held the cup and straw up to Tom’s mouth while he thought for a moment. He came up blank. “How on earth did you do that?”

“Tattletale,” Mike hissed at Tom. Tom shrugged his body and a dribble of liquid escaped his mouth.

“Mike? Wanna explain?”

“No.”

Joel pushed his glasses down his nose and cocked his head at Mike. Mike sighed.

“I couldn’t get the strap on the flip-flop to stay in place, and I didn’t want to stand there holding it. So I put it on my foot,” Mike explained.

“And then when he tried to take it off, he couldn’t, ‘cause his toes were stuck together around the toe-thingy,” Tom continued. “It was so funny, Mike hopping up and down on one leg trying to pull his flip-flop off. He invented some new words!”

“It was all fun and games until he fell over on top of me,” Crow said. “I’ll be bruised for weeks from his abundant pink oily flesh squashing my delicate circuits.”

“Well, at least you got the flip-flop off,” Joel said, trying and failing to inject a note of sympathy into his voice.

“With a few good chunks of my skin still attached,” Mike answered sourly. “And my toes are still glued together.”

“After the movie is over, I’ll get out the acetate and take care of that.”

“Acetate?”

“Nail polish remover. It dissolves cyanoacrylates.”

“Cyanoackwhats?”

“Superglue.”

“Oh. Why do we have nail polish remover?”

“Because when I’m dumb enough to glue parts of myself together, I take care of it right away. Also because Tom likes to have his nails painted once in a while.”

“I’m still in touch with my feminine side,” Tom said proudly, “even though I’m a manly macho ladies robot.”

Cambot squawked.

“He’s right,” Crow said. “Everybody shut up and watch the movie! I’m missing my favorite part!”

“Your favorite part is the Candy Man song? I thought it was the Fizzy Lifting Drinks room,” Mike remarked.

“Everyone just settle down,” Joel ordered. “Have some popcorn.” He reached for a handful, but came up with only a few unpopped kernels in his hand. The huge bowl was empty.

Tom belched.

Mike and Joel sighed simultaneously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the Twitter of one Michael J Nelson September 8, 2016:  
>  _Did I just super glue two of my toes together? Yes. Yes, I did. Is there an explanation where I come out looking ok? I'll get back to you._  
>  As of this writing, no explanation has yet been forthcoming. The one I came up with is as plausible as any other.
> 
> Leinie is short for Leinenkugel, a Chippawa Falls, Wisconsin beer that from what I've read is very solidly middle-of-the-road. Fictional Mike is a bit of a beer snob (as, I think, real Mike is) so resorting to the regional discount brew on a Saturday night is a bit out of character.


	10. The Grandest Hat of Them All

“ _Jo-el_ !” Tom squirmed and tried to get away from the human. “I don’t _want_ to wear this hat!”

“Why not?” Joel asked as he pulled the gray, fuzzy ear flaps down over the sides of Tom’s dome. “Grandma Nelson went to a lot of trouble to make you this, and it’s nice and warm,” he said as he gave a final tug to the blue and white yarn tassels dangling from the flaps.

“Because all the other kids will make fun of me on the bus! It’s an old man’s hat!” Tom wiggled out from Joel’s grasp and hovered over to the mirror. “I look like Walter Matthau!”

“No, you don’t,” Crow piped up. “You look like Randy Quaid in Christmas Vacation.” Tom burst into tears.

“Hush, child,” Joel scolded Crow. “Tom, you don’t look like Randy Quaid or Walter Matthau. You look like a robot going to school in Minnesota in January.” He tried to gather Tom into his arms, but the little red robot zoomed to the other side of the living room, sobbing loudly. “And you don’t even ride the bus!” Joel was getting a little exasperated.

“Rub some baby aspirin on his gums. That calmed him down up on the Satellite when he got like this,” Mike supplied helpfully as he entered the room.

“They don’t make baby aspirin any more, Mike. Some kids got sick from it or something,” Joel said.

“Why can’t I wear my Vikings ski hat?” Tom asked, sniffling.

“Because I was dumb and forgot to turn on the dryer last night and it’s still wet from you and Crow playing outside yesterday,” Joel explained patiently. 

“Why can’t I wear your old Packers hat instead of Crow? How come he gets to wear it? You like him best!”

“You could try rubbing baby Tylenol on his gums then, I guess,” Mike chimed in. Joel shot him a glare. Mike rolled his eyes but wisely kept quiet.

“Catch up with the conversation, Nelson!” Crow scolded.

“Tom,” Joel said in his one-more-minute-and-you-are-going-to-regret-it tone, “that was my hat when I was a kid. It’s too small to fit over your head, but it _will_ fit on Crow’s net, so he can wear it. Also, I thought you told me it was bad enough to have parents from Wisconsin without having to bear the stigma of being a Packers fan, besides.”

Tom thought for a minute. “Can I take it off as soon as I get to school?”

“As soon as you’re inside the building, yes,” Joel answered.

“Guys, we’ve got to get going, or I’m gonna be late for work,” Mike said, glancing at his watch. “Crow, do you have your backpack?”

“Right here.” Crow patted the Spiderman picture on the front.

“Good. Carry it with you and I’ll put it on when we get to school. Joel’s got you so bundled up you won’t fit in your booster seat with it on now.”

“It’s freezing out there!” Joel protested. “I don’t want them catching cold!” Out of the corner of his eye he caught Tom trying to sneak past. “Uh-uh, mister! You still need your scarf before I let you out of this house.” He grabbed the bot and started wrapping the blue, black, and white scarf around his neck again and again.

“Help!” Tom cried, voice muffled by the layers of fabric over his mouth. “I can’t put my arms down!”

“They don’t work anyway,” Crow pointed out.

Tom burst into tears again. For a second, Joel thought he would, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a picture of Tom wearing his hat and scarf to go with this, but I don't have permission yet to link to it. When I do, the link will be here.


	11. Tom and Crow Go to Pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike and Joel's neighbors take Tom and Crow to the Pride Parade and Festival. Looks like everybody is having - or will have - a good time!

Tom and Crow burst through the door. “Joel! Mike! You should have come! It was so great!” Tom enthused. He had several rainbow leis around his neck and a rainbow headband on his dome. “Everyone had the neatest outfits! There were rainbows EVERYWHERE!”

“Yeah” Crow added excitedly. “There was a bunch of really pretty ladies all dressed up in lots of feathers and glitter and sequins and stuff! They had a lot of makeup on! Addie said she’d make us up like that someday if it was okay with you guys!” His balloon head dress wobbled as his strings of beads clicked against his "I [heart] My Dads" t-shirt.

“And there were lots and lots of doggies, and they were all dressed up, too! One couple brought a basket of puppies and I was gonna take one, but Addie said we couldn’t bring any home with us until we asked you. Can we have a puppy? I wanna puppy! I’m gonna name him Humphrey!” Tom rattled on.

“So you had a good time, then?” Joel smiled bemusedly, completely ignoring Tom’s request as he always did.

“Oh yeah! There were these guys on motorcycles, and these women on motorcycles, and lots of motorcycles! Vrooom, vrooom! Can I have a motorcycle?” Tom begged. “Billie said he’ll take me for a ride as soon as he gets his license back. He knew like everybody there!”

“We’ll see,” Mike said cautiously. “Did you guys eat?”

“Yeah, we had pizza and cheese curds and pop and french fries and funnel cake and ice cream and deep fried grilled cheese and...” Tom stopped to catch his breath.

Joel frowned. “You didn’t eat all that?”

“Well, Addie made Billie give us a taste of everything he had,” Crow answered. “And look!” He held out a small bag. “I got a bunch of balloons! Everyone was handing them out for free! Billie blew a few up for me. They’re all long and thin, though, there aren’t any round ones. I even got a dozen flavored balloons! Billie blew up a pink one and it was bubble gum flavored! He let me lick it to see because I didn’t believe they made flavored balloons!”

Joel’s face was rapidly turning an interesting shade of red. Mike saw and took pity.

“Joel, why don’t you take Tom into the bathroom and get him cleaned up – he’s got lipstick marks on his dome,” Mike suggested. Joel threw him a grateful glance.

“One of the pretty ladies gave me a big kiss!” Tom stated proudly. “They know my raw animal magnetism is irresistible to the fairer sex!”

“Come on, big guy, you can tell me all about it,” Joel said as he led the way, Tom hovering and chattering away right on his heels.

“And Crow,” Mike hunkered down and looked the gold bot in the eyes as he reached for his wallet. “If I give you five dollars can I have your flavored balloons?”

“Five bucks? Sure!” Crow agreed happily, then narrowed his eyes. “What do you want a bunch of balloons for?”

“Oh, I want to play with them later. I think Joel might want to, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Billie and Addie are Billie Joe Armstrong of Green Day and his wife Adrienne. Their being Mike and Joel's neighbors was FontonaScreen's idea, as was the Gay Space Dads universe. I just get to play in it!


	12. It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's back-to-school time, and that means a shopping expedition with Tom and Crow in tow.

“I dunno,” Mike said, squinting down at the sheet in his hand, “I don’t remember needing all this stuff back when we went to school.”

“Back when we went to school, people still believed that education was important,” Joel answered, a little sharply. “The schools actually had money to provide supplies.” Joel was always a little touchy about educational criticisms, as his parents had been teachers before their retirement, Mike recalled.

“Are you two done? I wanna go pick out my backpack! All the good ones will be gone by the time we get there!” Crow whined and tugged at Mike’s arm.

“There’s a whole aisle full of backpacks. They’re not going anywhere, honey.” Mike kept Crow’s claw in a firm grip. No one was going to get lost this Target trip. “Why do they need crayons and markers _and_ colored pencils? And why do the colored pencils specifically have to be Crayola?”

“The influence of Big Crayon has corrupted us all,” Joel remarked dryly. “Do you want a repeat of last year? Just get the stuff on the list.”

“It’s hardly my fault I was being a smart consumer and going with the least expensive option.”

Tom piped up from his seat in the shopping cart. “Have you ever tried coloring with generic dollar store crayons, Mike? It’s like using candles. Picasso didn’t use Cra-Z-Art for his masterpieces. How do you expect my creativity to blossom if you cheap out all the time?!?”

Mike stared at Tom, eyebrow raised. “If someone doesn’t behave himself, _everyone_ is going to lose their McDonald's trip later.” The little red robot stared defiantly back for a moment, then sighed and sank back into his seat. Crow tugged at Mike’s arm again. “That goes for you, too, Crow.”

“But Daaaaaad -”

Mike snorted. “You only play the Dad Card when you know I’m right.”

“Let’s split up,” Joel suggested, grabbing another cart. “You and Tom get the school supplies, and I’ll take Crow to get his backpack.”

“Nuh-uh,” interrupted Crow. “I wanna go with Mike.” The man in question looked down at Crow. He’d been awfully clingy lately, choosing Mike over Joel in almost every situation. Mike filed that away to think about later.

“Fine,” Joel answered, his patience already fraying before they even got started. “Do you want to ride in the cart, Crow?”

“Only babies ride in the cart!”

“Hey!” Tom protested.

“Well it’s true!”

“McDonald's, guys?” Mike reminded the pair. They shut up immediately. “Tom, same black messenger bag like last year?” he asked.

Tom nodded. “It’s much more grown up than some baby backpack!” 

“Hey!” It was Crow’s turn to protest.

“Enough. We’ll meet up in front of the cleaning supplies. Give me the list,” Joel said, plucking it out of Mike’s hand. “How you always end up with the easy job, I don’t know,” grumbled Joel, adjusting his glasses and giving the paper the once-over. Mike glanced down at Crow, once again straining with impatience. 

**_One hour later…_ **

“Okay, you’ve got your Beauty and the Beast notebook – do you want a Toy Story one too? You need two different ones.”

“That’s for babies,” said Tom disdainfully. “How about X-Men?”

Joel scanned the shelves. “Sorry, Tom, seems like you’re outta luck on that. Harry Potter?”

“No. Unless it’s got the guy turning to ash on it! That’d be cool!”

“I think not. Monsters Inc.?

Tom tilted, considering. “Any with just Sully?”

Digging through the disorganized mess on the shelf in front of him, Joel located one and held it up for Tom. “This good?”

“It’ll do. I still want -” Over Joel’s shoulder Tom spied the Trapper Keepers. “Joel! Joel! Joel! I want the Trapper Keeper with the unicorn on it, right over there!”

“You know the school says no Trapper Keepers, Tom. Plain, solid color, one-inch three ring binder, that’s all.” Joel had memorized the list in the first fifteen minutes of arguing with Tom.

“But I want a unicorn! I want a rainbow unicorn, and that Trapper Keeper is the only one left! Please? Please? I’ll keep it at home for homework!”

Joel looked up at the ceiling and counted to ten while Tom begged. Lowering his head, he pushed the cart past temptation and stopped in front of the folders. 

“Here’s a Star Wars folder. Do you want a Star Wars folder?” Joel asked as he held one out.

“Not THAT one. Do you want me to be depressed every time I look at it?”

Joel glanced down at Hayden Christensen’s image. “Good point.” He tossed it back on the pile, then spied a burst of color on the next shelf up. 

“You wanted a rainbow unicorn.” Joel grabbed a handful of folders and threw them in the cart. "Here's a pile of Lisa Frank folders. Go nuts."

**_Two hours later..._ **

Mike sagged over the shopping cart and glanced at his watch for the hundredth time. “C’mon, Crow, just pick one already! Joel’s gonna kill me for letting you take this long.”

“I’m almost done! It’s a choice between this one,” in his right claw Crow hefted a backpack with a picture of Spider-Man shooting a web, “and this one,” nodding at the pack in his left claw that featured a puffy, 3-D close-up design of Spider-Man’s suit.

Exaggeratedly Mike slowly turned to look up the aisle, then down, at the wall of backpacks in front of the two. "Why does it take you two hours to pick out a backpack if you just end up getting a Spider-Man one again?" 

"I might want a different one! You don't know!" Crow snapped.

“Well, I do know now, because you’ve got two Spider-Man backpacks in your hands.”

“Which one do you like better?”

“I don-” Mike caught himself. He’d get out of here faster if he expressed an opinion. “The one with the picture.”

“I don’t know,” said Crow, “I kinda like the other one better.”

“Then pick the other one, and let’s go!”

“It’s not that easy! I have to live with this for a whole year! My reputation is on the line!”

“What reputation?”

“I happen to be the foremost Spider-Man expert in school! At least in my grade. Or my class. Anyway, it’s a heavy responsibility I carry,” Crow explained.

Mike dropped his head even lower over the cart. He took a deep breath, willed away the throbbing at his temples, straightened, and tried again.

"Crow, I thought you wanted something different this year? We could just use last year's backpack again if you're just going to get another Spider-Man."

"You can't use the same backpack two years in row! Geeze, no wonder no one liked you in school, Nelson!"

“I didn’t have a backpack. We didn’t use those yet,” Mike explained.

“So what did you carry your stone tablets around in?”

Mike’s eyes narrowed. “McDonald’s,” he reminded the gold bot.

Crow looked down. “Sorry,” he mumbled. Mike was touched. Crow did seem sorry – he hadn’t talked back.

“It’s okay, buddy,” Mike laid his hand on Crow’s shoulder. “You gotta pick a backpack, though. So which one?”

“You really like the picture best?”

“Yeah, I do,” Mike answered warmly.

“Then I’m getting the other one!” Crow tried to toss it in the cart, but missed and hit Mike in the arm instead.

Mike picked the backpack up off the tiled floor, placed it in the cart alongside Tom’s messenger bag, and grabbed Crow’s claw before he could scamper off. “Next stop Pharmacy Department!”

“But we’re supposed to meet Joel over by the Kleenex!”

“There’s no way I’m going to make it through a trip to McDonald’s without a supersize bottle of aspirin. Or ibuprofen. Or both.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of the chapter comes from the ubiquitous Staples commercial of the late 1990s: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fwcYbo7pjto
> 
> Remember that these stories are taking place in the early 2000s, within a few years of the end of the original series, so that the pop culture references are dated by our standards. 
> 
> Once again, thanks to FontonaScreen, who helped me flesh out the idea for this story and provided what I think are the three funniest lines in it.


	13. You're Bacon My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike has his annual medical check-up, and gets some disheartening news.

A dejected Mike trudged through the front door as Tom and Crow erupted into another chapter of their endless fight over whether they should play Harry Potter or Spider-man on the PS2. He hung his coat up silently, shifting a sheaf of papers between his hands, and stood behind the sofa for a moment, waiting for the bots to say hello. When they didn’t, totally engrossed in the game they weren’t yet playing, he sighed and entered the kitchen where Joel was busy at the stove.

“Hey, glad you made it home for dinner,” Joel said, turning to face Mike. He leaned in to plant a kiss on Mike’s cheek but stopped when he caught a glimpse of his sour expression. “How’d your check-up go?” he asked.

“Not well.” Mike sat down at the table and buried his head in his arms. Joel quickly turned the flame under the stir-fry off and sat next to Mike. 

“Honey, what’s wrong?”

“I have to go on a diet!” Mike practically sobbed the words into his arms.

“A diet?” Joel asked. “I didn’t notice you gaining any weight,” he continued as he rubbed Mike’s back lightly.

“Not that kind of diet. I have high cholesterol. Like, super high. So I have to go on a diet.” Mike raised his head and waved around the papers in his left hand. “She wants me to follow this meal plan for the next three months, then come back and see if my numbers improve before we try medication.”

“That sounds reasonable.”

“It’s not!” Mike cried. “Listen to this: no butter, only non-fat dairy, no fried foods, cut way back on doughnuts and pastries, cut the salt, cut the sugar - “

“Honey, we can work with this,” Joel soothed. “I should eat more healthy, too.”

“And the meat...the meat...” Again Mike buried his head, this time in his hands.

“The meat?”

“The meat. She wants me to limit red meat to once or twice a week, only low-fat cuts. Fish twice a week, chicken the rest of the time. Worst of all no processed meat!”

“Processed meat?”

“No sausage. No beef jerky. And no -” Mike’s face turned white. “No bacon.”

Joel sat back in his chair and let out a low whistle. “No bacon?” he asked tentatively.

“No bacon. Joel, I can’t give up bacon. No. I just can’t.” Mike crumpled the papers in his hand. “I can’t.”

“Yes you can, honey. We’ll do it together.” Joel gulped. Well, he’d try to do it for Mike’s sake, anyway.

“You don’t understand! I can’t! I won’t! I am not giving up bacon because BACON UNDERSTANDS ME!!!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the final line is an actual Michael J. Nelson quote. I swear I can't write fictional Mike as well as he lives him. (It makes sense if you think about it.)


	14. Shuffle Off to Buffet-lo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shuffleboard is Serious.

As Joel pulled his beat-up Volvo station wagon into the driveway, Mike could make out something fairly large protruding through the hatch, but he wasn’t going to go all the way upstairs to get his glasses just when he and his beer were settled in. His plans for an afternoon of couch potatoing were dashed when his partner walked through the door.

“Mike?” Joel called. “Oh, there you are. Come give me a hand. I found somethin’ really neat at that Estate Sale in Edina! You shoulda come along; there were all sorts of classical CDs there but I couldn’t get any ‘cause I don’t know what you have and you had your phone turned off - again.”

At the sound of Joel’s voice Tom and Crow came barrelling down the stairs. “Joel! You’re home! What’d you get us?” Crow demanded.

“Crow! Don’t be rude! Or he won’t give it to us!” Tom scolded. “Hello, Joel. I hope your morning of scavenging sales was pleasant.” He waited a beat. “Now what’d you get us? Hand it over!”

Joel laughed. “I got _us_ a new toy for the family room, but I need Mike’s help to get it out of the car.”

“Mike, get off your ass and help Joel!” Tom commanded.

Mike frowned. “C’mon, I just sat down. All I want to do is watch the game in peace for a few hours. Can’t it wait ‘til later?”

“No,” the other three chorused in unison. Cambot, having flown in at the sound of voices, added their blurp.

“Mike, you’re gonna love this. We can all learn how to play together, even Tommy,” Joel enthused.

“Play what?” asked Crow.

“Shuffleboard! I got us a shuffleboard table! It was real cheap ‘cause it was the end of the sale and no one else had the room to haul it away! Come help me get it inside.”

“Shuffleboard? Isn’t that what old people in Boca Raton play just before they die?” Tom wondered.

“Yeah, but this is a smaller version, just like foosball is a smaller version of…bigger foosball. Honey, why are you grinning like that?”

A Grinchy, evil smile stretched across Mike’s face. Crow shook his head, and explained.

“Mike had Brain Guy send us up a Shuffleboard table in between seasons when we had some down time. He got really competitive abou-”

“Ollie Nordstrom and his gang at the cheese factory used to challenge me to shuffleboard matches at The Groggy Viking every Friday night. I vowed that someday I would return and beat them all at their game - at their evil, cheating, dirty rotten game.” Mike’s eyes glazed over, remembering the long-ago indignities. “So I practiced, hours each day, every day, waiting for my chance, vowing the day I returned to Earth I would find Ollie and his flunkies, beating them for once and for all.” His voice was cold and flat.

“And?” Joel prompted, against his better judgement.

“And what?” Mike questioned, snapping out of his flashback.

“What about Ollie Nordstrom?”

“Oh, he was dead. Bad accident with the cheese brining strainer. And The Groggy Viking was torn down. They replaced it with an Old Country Buffet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the Great RiffTrax Shuffleboard Championship as seen on their Facebook page, under the Videos header, posted January 10, 2018. Also, a cheese brining strainer is a real thing.


	15. Longview

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are times the bots take things literally.

_*Thwuck* *thwuck* *thwuck*_

The rhythmic wet slapping slowly creeped into Mike’s consciousness as he finished separating the whites from the darks. He looked cluelessly around the laundry room, then down at the tube socks in his hand, trying to locate the source of the sound.

_*Thwuck* *thwuck* *thwuck*_

It seemed to be coming from overhead, in the kitchen. Was Joel chopping something for dinner? It didn’t sound like chopping, and besides, he already had everything for dinner prepped. Grill nights he was in charge of the cooking and the menu.

_*Thwuck* *thwuck* *thwuck*_

Curious, Mike dropped the socks and climbed the stairs. 

_*Thwuck* *thwu–_ “Oh, hi Mike!”

Crow stood, rubber mallet in hand, over the steaks for that evening’s dinner. The formerly inch-thick slabs were now thin cutlets, the juices spattered over the backsplash, cabinets, and counter. Mike squeezed his eyes shut and caught the sigh before it could escape.

“Hi Crow. What did you do to my steaks?”

“Oh, that?” Crow gestured toward the mauled meat. “I was over at Billie Joe’s house, and he and Other Mike were talking about beating their meat and how much fun it was, ‘cause it felt really good. I remembered it was your turn to cook dinner so I came home and found your meat and started beating it.” The gold robot shook his head and frowned. “But it’s not nearly as fun as they said it was, and my arm hurts now.”

Mike stared at Crow for a full ten seconds, then walked over and threw the back door open.

“Joel! JOEL! Get in here, NOW!” he hollered at the man getting up from where he was fixing a loose spindle on the deck railing, with Tom's supervision.

“I’m here, I'm here! Geeze, you don’t have to yell. What’s the emergency?” he asked peevishly as he stepped inside the door. Mike pointed toward Crow.

“You’re the one who told them all about ‘telling secrets’; I think you should be the one to explain what ‘beat the meat’ really means.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is in tribute to the Green Day song, for obvious reasons. Yes, that's Billie Joe and Mike Dirnt making an off-screen cameo. They are bad influences on young Mr. T. Robot, in particular, as you can see.


End file.
